Flipping Wars
by JJJJ12
Summary: Rey Niima loves restoring old homes to their former glory. Luckily, Han Solo's business does exactly that. Rey fits right into Solo & Son, despite the company lacking the aforementioned son. Kylo Ren is a housing developer and real estate agent looking to replace the old homes Rey loves restoring with modern developments. Well, not if Rey can help it. DISCONTINUED.


"FOURTY THOUSAND!" Rey yelled, with probably too much enthusiasm for the massive amount of money she was volunteering to spend.

The auctioneer merely grinned and waved towards her, before looking back to the crowd.

"We've got forty-thousand on this lovely 2 bed, 2 bath home. Can we do forty-five?" The red-faced auctioneer sputtered out, his words so quick that any person unfamiliar with the world of auctions would surely not understand him.

But unfortunately for Rey, she wasn't around a group unfamiliar with auctions.

"FORTY-FIVE!" A chubby man beside Rey yelled, a local businessman who continued to be a thorn in her side.

Rey seethed. There was no way in hell she wasn't getting this home.

With a step forward and her panel as high as her arm would allow, she stuck her nose up.

"SIXTY THOUSAND!"

The small crowd erupted in murmurs and gasps, surprised by her audacity. Beside her, Chewie let out a grunt, one that Rey couldn't interpret as either good or bad.

But her bid seemed to do it, the chubby man letting out a curse and a shake of his head. From the front of the home, the auctioneer grinned and slammed his gavel down.

"And it's sold to the lovely woman in white for a whopping sixty-thousand dollars!" He exclaimed, waving to Rey with a grin, "Happy to be doing business with y'all!"

As the crowd dispersed, Rey merely climbed into Chewie's truck, absolutely buzzing with excitement.

-x-x-x-

Unfortunately, her excitement was short-lived, if her boss's face was any indication. She sat with a typically quiet Chewie and Han in their favorite corner booth at Maz's, chomping on a late breakfast of coffee and pancakes. Maz made the fluffiest, most delicate pancakes in the greater Coruscant area, and nothing made Rey smile more than her chocolate chip-bacon combo.

But, despite the stack in front of her and her earlier buzz from the auction, Han's irritation had her nibbling on her lip nervously.

"You bought that house on Parkview for sixty thousand dollars?" He screeched, pinching his nose in a clear sign of frustration, "Rey! Come on!"

She frowned and crossed her arms. "That prat Hutt kept bidding against me! If he got his hands on it, he'd do exactly what he did to that beautiful Victorian on Elderman Way!"

It was silly, really, for Rey to grow so attached to houses, but she couldn't help it. In fact, when she came to the US at age twenty, the one thing that made her feel at ease were some of the gorgeous old homes found around the country, particularly the Victorians.

If in good shape, the homes were literally time capsules of a forgotten era. The character of the houses, the stories that they told, just made Rey weep.

Or, maybe it had something to do with her never having a home of her own while growing up.

No matter why, she quickly found a career she loved.

That's why she was so lucky she met Han. He was a house flipper, and along with his realtor wife Leia, the two devoted all their time to renovating homes in Coruscant to their former glory.

But unlike most house flippers, they weren't interested in getting rid of the character. They went out of their way to preserve the nature of the homes—if they could keep the original interior, they did. If they had to replace something in the home, they went above and beyond to find something from the original era.

The results were always incredible.

The homes were works of art.

And Rey was lucky enough to be a part of their team.

Unfortunately, however, most house flippers didn't have the same beliefs. Why maintain the authenticity of the home if they could simply tear the place to its studs and just shove in some subway tile and granite countertops?

Jabba Hutt, a local businessman, was the worst one of all. He had a terrible reputation for either fully tearing down hundred-year old homes and building from scratch or removing every last bit of character from his buys until the streets of Coruscant were left with identical, cookie cutter homes.

It made Rey sick.

She took a sip of coffee and forced herself to take a deep breath. "That home was built in 1882! The stained-glass windows were in perfect shape. The outdoor columns looked straight out of a fairytale."

With a shake of her head, she aggressively added another sugar to her coffee. "And as soon as he got his hands on it, he painted it grey, tore down the columns, and added some bloody French doors."

Han sighed and nodded, understanding her frustration. "Rey, I get it, I do. But the Parkview home is on the edge of town. We'll be lucky if we make 200 hundred off it and we have no idea what type of damage on the inside we're looking at."

The businesswoman in Rey knew Han was right. The house she—and by extension Han—just purchased was one-hundred and two years old. Odds were, it needed quite a bit of work and upgrades. Meaning, with a sixty-thousand-dollar price tag, and homes selling in the area for around two-hundred, there wasn't going to be a ton of room for profit.

Especially if the reno cost them a pretty penny.

Which it usually did.

"I'm sorry," She finally mumbled, before stuffing a forkful of pancake in her mouth, "I just couldn't let Hutt get his hands on it."

Han simply nodded and offered a soft smile. "We'll be price conscious. We always are."

Chewie made a grunt of agreement from beside them before tearing into an omelet that Rey assumed had no less than twelve eggs.

"Anyways, Chewie and I are heading to the home on Buxton Terrace. Poe's bringing by the converted credenza and the matching sconces," Han explained, glancing at his best friend and lead contractor for agreement, "We've gotta speed up since we lost those days last week from the storm."

Their reno on Buxton Terrace had been nothing but a nightmare from the moment they bought the home. After being caught up in red tape and new zoning laws, even starting to work on the house was delayed for almost a month.

That September had been relatively rainy and unfortunately, with older homes, rain meant flooding. Last week, they'd lost three entire days from flooding damage and storming, and now, the entire team was desperate to catch up.

Lost time meant lost money.

But Rey was delighted to see what Poe had in store. One of her closest friends, the man was an incredible antiques' dealer, typically scouring the entire country for beautiful odds and ends. For that home, he had located a beautiful old credenza that he converted into a vanity for the master bathroom, as well as somehow finding more of the exact sconces they had scavenged from the hallways before starting demo.

Sometimes, Rey swore Poe was wizard.

One time, he found the exact pattern of Spanish tile that they managed to preserve in one of their ninety-year-old homes. They would have hired a local painter to make replicas for the few broken pieces, but Poe just snapped and had exactly what they needed.

But people like Poe were precisely why Han and Leia had succeeded at their business for so long. Between all the artisans and expert craftsman they knew—specialty window guys, antiques dealers, local painters, furniture restoration experts—their homes were always masterpieces when the for-sale signs finally went up.

Rey desperately wanted to learn everything she could from them.

Because more than anything, after her almost two years with the team, one thing had quickly become apparent.

The money was average—sometimes very good, sometimes not so good—but the passion was not.

Han and Leia did not do this to be wealthy (although Rey certainly could tell Leia came from a wealthy family).

They did it simply because they cared about restoring homes to their former glory.

"—Lincoln Boulevard just sold for over forty asking, and with Brixton wrapping up, Leia and I want you to check out that house on Tapper that just went on sale—" Han droned on, only pausing briefly to take a sip of coffee, "Take the truck and use your best judgement."

Rey took a terse breath, hoping she didn't miss much of Han's complaining about all the issues at Brixton. But, to hear that he was sending her back out for a potential auction was music to her ears, especially since he seemed upset about overpaying earlier that morning.

And she knew what house he was referring to on Tapper.

It was _stunning_.

A bit dilapidated and in need of some loving, but _stunning_.

"And then I want your opinion on the landscaping at Brixton since—" Han stopped speaking as his phone started to ring, buzzing against his mug of coffee.

Rey giggled, watching as he answered the call, his fifteen-year-old flip phone against his ear. Despite Leia constantly nagging him to get with the times, Han refused to update his phone as long as it still worked.

She was still using an iPhone 5, so she understood, but even she needed Google Maps every once in a while.

"Yes, Princess?" He asked, the same silly grin growing on his face that appeared every time he talked to Leia.

Rey laughed at the way Chewie rolled his eyes and proceeded to finish her last bit of pancake. However, she quickly noticed the way Han's lips quirked into a frown and the man immediately tensing up.

"You sure?" He muttered, his hands clenching and unclenching atop the table, "That doesn't sound like him."

Rey and Chewie simply watched him in silence, clearly curious about the phone call.

"Great, that's just fucking great," Han muttered darkly, before rubbing at his eyes, clearly tired, "That kid never learns."

When the older man noticed Rey's avid attention, she turned away, instead focusing on her chipped nails. Finally, after Han muttered a quiet "love you" and "goodbye", he flipped his phone shut and jumped to his feet.

"I gotta take a piss." He hissed darkly, before storming away.

Rey bit her lip and looked at Chewie, concerned about her boss's sudden shift in mood.

"Erm, what do you think that was about?" She couldn't help but ask, hoping Chewie's almost forty-year friendship would shine some light on the bizarre conversation between Han and his wife.

Chewie scratched at his large beard and muttered a single word.

"Ben."

Rey raised an eyebrow. "Ben? Who's Ben?"

The large man sipped his coffee and shrugged.

"Their son."

-x-x-x-

Rey left the diner in a daze, keeping the windows of the pickup truck down so the Coruscant air could cool her warm face.

Han and Leia's son.

She knew they had one.

He had just never been given a name.

Rey snorted and turned the radio on, nibbling on her lip, trying not to overthink the end to their breakfast.

When she moved to Coruscant from Jakku a little over two years ago, stumbling onto Han Solo's business had been a gift from the gods. Back in the UK, Rey's foster father had worked on houses, forcing her to join his crew whenever school was out of session.

And so, she had done it all. Demoing rooms, sanding and staining floors, tiling bathrooms, and everything in between.

As much as Rey hated Plutt with everything in her, she at least knew he had inadvertently introduced her to her one true love.

She loved houses. If she couldn't grow up in a loving home, she wanted to make sure all the little girls and boys all over the world got to.

So, when she arrived in Coruscant, by happenstance she drove by one of Han's constructions, the massive _**Solo & Son **_truck sitting on the jagged pavement in front of a gorgeous old home.

One that needed desperate work, but beautiful nonetheless.

She marched right to the door and demanded a job on his crew.

He started to trust her when she recognized a poisonous snake for what it was. And when she introduced him and Leia to Poe, who turned out to be a life saver. And when she proved to be the only person on his team who could properly style the color of kitchen cabinets and counters so they wouldn't clash.

Most importantly, she was as passionate about what he and Leia did as they were.

Now, she was running sites on her own, working directly with him and Chewie, sometimes on upwards of four houses at a time.

But no matter what she did, she was never going fill the shoes of the _**Son**_ in _**Solo & Son**_.

Apparently, said son's name was Ben.

She knew little about what happened between Han, Leia, and their mysterious only child, learning only bits and pieces from Chewie and some of the crew who had been around for years.

For a few years, the family had worked in perfect harmony. The elusive Ben was always meant to take over the family business.

And from what Rey was told, he could do it all. He was as skilled selling the homes as he was swinging the hammer inside them.

But something happened and he left Coruscant, moving onto bigger and better things.

Rey never pried. And at the Solo home, the only photos of the mysterious son were of the boy as a young child, perhaps no older than maybe age 13.

Whatever was going on, she hoped Leia and Han would be okay.

As it was, the couple were the closest thing she had to parents, despite no longer being a child.

-x-x-x-

Per Han's instructions, around 2pm she arrived at the house on Tapper Street, momentarily left speechless as she put the truck in park.

Windows were broken.

The violet shade of the home had paled from years in the elements, now looking more brown than what was once likely a luscious purple.

The massive wraparound porch was missing planks of wood; one of its columns was completely destroyed, leaving the front unbalanced.

But Rey could only stare at the massive bay windows, and the delicate lacing that traced the entirety of the roof, and the solid oak front door that only needed some TLC, and the balcony that reached out from what was likely the master bedroom, and the stunning, twin American Beech trees that bordered the right of the property, and—

She took a deep breath.

She always did this. She fell in love with a house, and if they didn't win it, which did happen about half of the time, she left heartbroken.

More heartbroken than she'd ever been over the handful of relationships in her past.

With another calming breath, she scurried out of the truck, rushing over to the gathering crowd of potential homebuyers. Usually, houses for sale, especially when put up by banks or the city, attracted a decent number of potential buyers.

Other flippers, newcomers who were silly enough to think they could flip on their own, landowners who simply wanted the land, local businessmen, and the list could go on.

Rey rarely saw a face she didn't recognize.

Coruscant wasn't small, per se, but it wasn't massive either.

As she rounded the perimeter of the home, scouting for potential foundation issues or any glimpse into the interior of the home, the loud roaring of a purring engine caught her attention.

Rey hugged her notebook to her chest, glancing back to the country road.

A gorgeous car expertly navigated the swerving streets, its melodic engine a clear indicator of the expense of such a beauty.

Her mouth dropped as she studied the sleek black car, immediately recognizing it as a Porsche 911.

A car that cost more than six figures.

People in Coruscant didn't drive expensive cars. Occasionally, the show-offs would appear with a new Mercedes or Audi, but such machines were few and far between.

As a car lover, she could only dream of someday affording such a driving machine.

But before she could wonder who the driver was, the doors of the car opened upwards.

A man dressed in black as dark as the car climbed out.

He was massive. Tall, thick, and oozing an energy that promised he wasn't easy to work with. His black suit was a sleek as his car.

Rey assumed his shoes cost more than her annual rent.

She watched as he stormed towards the home, arguing with someone over the phone.

Without seeing the piece of technology, she knew it would be the newest model available on the market.

"Alright folks, we're starting here in two minutes!" The auctioneer bellowed, content from his pop-up podium by the front of the home.

Rey sighed and hiked towards the front of the home, her eyes still locked on the mysterious man. Despite his aggressive arguing and his domineering presence, she had to admit he was handsome.

Well, handsome in a striking sort of way.

And then there was the car….

She sighed and joined the crowd, unable to stop glancing at the man. He finally ended his call, looking beyond irritated.

But, when the auctioneer spoke, she was forced to look away from the mystery man.

She wanted this house and couldn't let the handsome stranger distract her.

Typically, with a home of that size and age, especially in that side of town, Han put their cap at eighty-thousand, with maybe a few grand for wiggle room. But the home looked larger than they were used to and was perched on approximately an acre of land.

Rey knew she could spend one-hundred thousand and they'd be in the clear.

With the right work and the right buy, they could sell for three-fifty.

She was giddy thinking about it.

"Alright, ladies and gents! You're looking at this wonderful Victorian home, selling as is. A wink over three-thousand square feet, this beautiful home was built in 1897. Rumor has it there's a working gas fireplace inside," The auctioneer bellowed, leading to excited murmurs from the crowd of people, "We're starting our bid at ten-thousand dollars. Can we get ten-thousand dollars?"

Rey watched as a hand went into the air, recognizing a team of local flippers, Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor. Unlike Jabba Hutt, Jyn and Cassian were nice people, and Rey usually liked catching up with the couple over coffee every once in a while.

"Fifteen-thousand!" Cassian yelled, earning an excited smile from his fiancé.

"Twenty!" One of Hutt's goonies yelled, cutting in before the auctioneer could even update the crowd.

Rey nibbled on her lip, deciding then was her chance to jump in. "Thirty!" She screamed, satisfied with the first bid.

A house of similar size sold last week for seventy, despite being in far better shape.

Seventy would work perfectly for her and Han.

"Wow! Can we get to forty? Anyone got forty?" The auctioneer cheered on, looking around pointedly.

But then a voice so deep, so commanding, so_ hypnotizing_ spoke aloud that the auction came to a standstill.

"One-ten."

His voice seemed to not only paralyze her, but the auctioneer as well.

"Wow!" The auctioneer squeaked out, staring at the man with wide eyes, "Can we get one-twenty?"

The mystery man waved his hand. "I'll give you one-twenty if you call it and I have the deed in my hand in the next twenty minutes."

The auctioneer blinked and slammed his gavel. "Well, okay! Sold for one-hundred and twenty thousand dollars to the man in black!"

Rey just stared at the man, mouth agape, unmoving. The rest of the crowd dispersed, including a whispering Cassian and Jyn, and Hutts' minions, looking clearly like they were preparing for a talking to.

But Rey couldn't move.

Not when she wouldn't be working on this gorgeous home.

Not when that man overpaid by at least _fifty thousand dollars_.

Who the hell was he?

She watched as he spoke to the auctioneer, casually pulling out cashier checks and cash.

And as soon as the transaction was finished, Rey couldn't stop her feet.

She stopped directly in front of the man, standing right at his chest. Looking up to meet his gaze, she cleared her throat.

"Hiya. You must be new around here," She began, willing her voice not to shake, "Congrats on the home."

The mysterious man looked mildly put off by her approach, eying her cut-off shorts and white tank with disdain. In fact, when his eyes landed on the worn flannel shirt tied across her hips, she shifted, suddenly embarrassed.

"Thanks," He muttered, glancing around her form to eye his car, as if he was worried it would no longer be there, "But I promise, honey, I've been here a lot longer than you have."

Rey narrowed her eyes, not a fan of his attitude. "Right. Well, what are your plans with the place? It's such a gorgeous build—I hope you can salvage the bay windows! And that front door—wow!"

The man shrugged and pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing a quick message before looking at her. "The house? It's going down."

Words escaped her. She couldn't breathe.

"Going down?" She stuttered out, looking between the massive man and the gorgeous, hundred-plus year-old home behind him.

He began to walk, causing Rey to follow on his heels. When he realized her movements, he rolled his eyes. "Yes, down. It's solid land. Equidistant between downtown Coruscant and downtown Corellia. Perfect space for a new, luxury home. Five-thousand square feet, three car garage, even a swimming pool."

Rey's stomach flipped, the pancakes she had stuffed her face with earlier in the day flopping around in her stomach. "You can't be serious!" She cried out, her cheeks turning red in anger, "You're tearing down that gorgeous home to build a bloody suburban McMansion?!"

The man shrugged. "Honey, those suburban McMansions go for anywhere between six-hundred and eight-hundred thousand a pop. Coruscant is booming with young money—this is how to invest."

No matter how desperately she tried to hold it in, she couldn't help the way her eyes watered. "You're destroying history! Do you possibly think anyone is going to care about the ridiculous gadgets you put in your homes in one-hundred years? That the same bloody white marble countertops and boring grey walls are going to stand the test of time?"

With a smirk, the handsome man looked down at her, his eyes playful. "Have these stood the test of time, honey? Because if they had, don't you think they'd be occupied, not sold off by the bank for chump change?"

Rey growled, poking at his chest. "You're wrong! These homes just need some TLC and they can't when prats like you just show up and—and—and—"

"Offer more money," He suggested, smirking, "That's how auctions work."

She swallowed and clenched her fists. "And who exactly do you think you are?"

He stopped in front of his car. "The name's Kylo Ren, honey. You should remember it too—we're only just starting our work in Coruscant."

As his doors opened, she watched his eyes land on her pick-up truck. Specifically, the large _**Solo & Son**_ logo resting comfortably against the baby blue exterior.

"Is that yours?" He muttered darkly, eying her curiously.

It was a stupid question, considering only he and Rey remained.

She nodded and stormed over to her truck. "It is."

He glared at her, his eyes dark, his lips in a scowl. "Oh, I see. You've been brainwashed by Han Solo. You haven't learned how to make money on house flipping yet."

Rey gasped. "Han Solo could teach you a thing or two about respect and conducting business!" She screeched.

Kylo laughed darkly. "Somehow I doubt that."

With another cry, she held her hands to her hips, standing as tall as she could.

"Alright then, Kylo," She hissed out, her eyes furious, "The name is Rey Niima. You should remember it too—this won't be the last time you see me around."

But instead of looking put off by her introduction, he merely smirked.

"I look forward to it Rey." He explained, climbing into his car. Within seconds, his windows rolled down, and his head poked out, "I'll see you at the next auction."

And then he sped away, leaving only bits of asphalt to hit at her skin.

-x-x-x-

Three days later, she sat in her truck on Tapper Street, literal tears streaming down her cheeks.

The bay window came down, glass shatters flying through the air.

The balcony crumbled under the weight of the excavator, tumbling to the wilted grass.

The American Beeches collapsed to the ground, their decades of roots ripped from the earth.

And when the gorgeous oak door fell to the rubble, she let out a sob.

From the sidewalk, wearing a black Henley and a pair of fitted black jeans, Kylo Ren met her gaze.

His eyes searched every inch of her face, from her tear stained cheeks to her quivering lips.

Then he simply turned around, admiring his handiwork.

She didn't know who this man was.

Not really, anyways.

But she knew one thing immediately.

She did not like Kylo Ren.


End file.
